Here We Stand
by yruniwylio
Summary: House Mormont is an old, proud house. We are bannermen to the Starks of Winterfell, and the Homely Hearth – which is only named thus because of the warm fires lit because it is cold as Winter all year round – is a monument to the Men of the North who make their living from the land and the sea. We Fish. We Hunt. We Thrive. Our sigil is a proud Black bear; our motto: Here we Stand.
1. The Little Bear

**A/N: So, after watching Season 4 of GoT, being totally hooked and very much missing Richard Madden, I thought I would try my hand at this. A few authors that I am following have posted GoT stories recently, and their wonderful writing has inspired me somewhat. This is what I imagine would happen to a family that would fall apart - and have the pieces reforged in a different way. This will be a Robb/OC story, but it is a little slow going as I build up the story, from Jeorelle's story.**

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**Chapter one: The Little Bear.**

House Mormont is an old, proud house. We are bannermen to the Starks of Winterfell, and the Homely Hearth – which is only named thus because of the warm fires lit because it is cold as Winter all year round – is a monument to the free Men of the North - with a Heart tree; a towering Weirwood with an impassive face, a sigil of the Old Gods of the North, sitting peacefully in the courtyard - prayed to by men and women who make their living from the land and the sea. We fish. We Hunt. We Thrive. Like the bears of old, who still litter the Wolfswood and the forests near Deepwood Motte. Our Sigil is a proud Black bear with bloody paws and a bloody tongue, and almost roars the motto to those who hate our island; our proud, fierce words; Here we stand.

The women here are different from any of the other seven kingdoms too. We fight. We do not merely act as dutiful, graceful wives. In _our_ history, the women of Bear Island were always raped and pillaged by the raiders, be they wilding or ironborn, and so – we learned to fight. There is a great carving above the gates to the Homely Hearth of Bear Island. It is of an enormous woman, clad only in a bearskin. She is suckling a child at her breast with one hand, whilst the other wields a battle axe.

With all the fierceness, I guess you could say our women are hard, but that isn't true. Our matriarchal line is full – there are many women in our family, and all are able to fight – naturally, but we are all taught differently. Believe it or not, there are only two men of the Bloodline of House Mormont. Father - Jeor Mrmont, and Jorah. His sister, Maege, has five daughters: Dacey, Alysane, Jorelle, Lyra and Lyanna. Most of the women in our family have learned to wield the axe. It is a favourite in our history after all. Alysane and Dacey both learned the sword, in an attempt to inherit Longclaw – our ancestral weapon. A bastard blade of Valyrian steel with a bear head carved into the pommel, but I chose Archery. I am the daughter of Ser Jeor Mormont, Lord of Bear Island. He is affectionately known as the Old Bear, and I am known on the island as the Little Bear. After mother passed in childbirth with me, Father began to distance himself. I was to be raised a Lady. He named me Jeorelle, and then shut me out emotionally. My brother raised me. He was several years my senior, already married before I could walk.

Elenya Glover passed away when I was ten. I was devastated. She was more a mother to me than any other, and my brother Jorah was distraught. They loved each other so deeply, and never had the chance for children, with two miscarriages and a stillborn son finally taking Elenya from us. He had Jorah's hair. My hair. Mormont hair. Then he married that witless woman. He took me to a tourney in Lannisport. He decided he would compete. I bet him two gold dragons he would win.

It was my first time to a tourney, and the noise immediately made my stomach curl. The tourney had been decided on to celebrate the defeat of the rebels on the Iron Islands, and I remember Jorah telling me that the last son of Lord Balon Greyjoy was now a ward at Winterfell with our liege Lords. He sat me near the King, as he saw Ser Balman Byrch eyeing me up from his pallid eyes and monstrous yellow moustache. King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name turned his gaze upon me. He was tall, as most grown men are to ten year old girls, and a dark stubble covered his hard jaw, his black mane of curls causing him to look almost feral. Beside him sat his new bride – Queen Cersei.

Cersei Lannister; probably the prettiest woman to grace the seven kingdoms; with her flowing golden locks, and her flashing emerald eyes, her slender figure, even while obviously with child, and not yet a day over twenty five, but still looking nineteen! Her son Joffrey sat beside her, barely five, and watching the approaching knights with rapture.

"Who in the name of the seven are you then, girl?" the King bellowed at me. I turned my brown eyes to look at him, and stood, sweeping into a curtsey. "I am Jeorelle Mormont, your Grace. Of Bear Island." I explained timidly. He swept a look at the people around me.

"And did you walk all the way here, girl?"

"No, your Grace. My brother, Ser Jorah Mormont brought me. He is to compete." I said. I heard a few chuckles behind me, but chose to ignore it. The King laughed and turned back to the crowd. "Well, the little Mormont wants to see the tourney, so let it begin!" he commanded loudly.

Lance after lance clashed and crashed and unseated brilliant Knights. My brother got hit in his first tilt, but unseated Lord Jason Mallister in the second. The King explained that we got possession of the horse because Mallister was unseated. I nodded, never taking my eyes from my brother. He was hurt, that I could see. He rolled his shoulder and shook his head, his skull rattling around inside his helm, before he waved off his squire and prepared to beat Lord Yohn Royce.

He didn't beat Lord Yohn Royce.

He annihilated him. Unseated in the first tilt. In one afternoon, my brother had unseated _four_ knights. Mallister, Royce, and then with a dislocated shoulder, both Ser Hosteen Frey and Ser Ryman Frey were unhorsed. We spent the night at our inn and laughed together. Jorah showed me how to sell a horse for the right price, and what to look out for in a good beast.

"You must always learn Ellie." He schooled. I nodded, drinking in his wisdom. "Always find something to learn about everything. Be it what weather is good to travel in, what food is good in which tavern, or what vice most people are sin to give in to."

I cocked my head at that one, my brown eyes meeting his blue ones. He gestured over my shoulder. We were having food in the inn, and I turned and saw a large man groping at a woman. I crinkled my nose. "Aye, you do well to turn your nose up, sister, but it is how they make their living. Without their strengths they would starve." He lectured. I nodded, understanding this was all part of my lesson to learn. I watched him intently.

He gave ample money to the woman whilst drinking copious amounts of wine. "So tomorrow, when I face him, I will do what, little bear?" he asked me. I turned back to look at him, and remembered what he was like the morning after his last name-day.

"Make lots of noise, like banging your gauntlets on your shield, and maybe even frighten the horse?" I supplied quietly. He grinned and nodded. "Good girl. Now, to bed with you, to be ready for tomorrow."

The next morning, I resumed my seat near the king. "Back for more, girl?" he asked. I nodded once again. "I like to learn, your Grace." I said, with a curtsey. My eyes roamed the crowd and the other knights. I had checked the lists this morning on my way to the seats. Lord Whent was an easy foe, but my brother got a lance to the face against Ser Lyle Crakehall. I squealed a little when I saw the blood from his head, but he shook it off. I knew I looked white as a sheet, probably trembling like a doe in winter, but it frightened me. People said you could be harmed in a tourney, but this was my first time believing it.

I could hear giggling from near me and I scouted the seats, fighting to keep a sneer from my face as I saw the crowned Prince laughing at Jorah's injury. His pretty blond head was thrown back and his pretty tinkling laugh spurted from his pretty pink lips. I wanted to hit him. Hard.

The next tilt saw Jorah unhorse Ser Crakehall. I couldn't have been more relieved. He had a break before the next tilt, and so I bolted to his tent and hugged him tightly, my face squashing against his armour.

"Don't die doing this, Jorah. I know I said you'd win, but I would rather you lost so I can stay with you. Don't go to Elenya yet!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. He faltered at that and scooped me into his arms.

"Don't worry, little Bear. I won't. I miss her too." He soothed, running a gloved hand down my back softly. He made me stay with his squire for the next one. He tilted against Ser Boros Blount, and won on points. No one hurt. No one unhorsed. I managed a breath at that.

"You know," Jorah began, running a hand through his soft brown hair, as he sat in his tent with me, waiting for the final. "If I win, I get to crown a Queen of Love and Beauty." He stated. I turned to him, my eyes wide. "You _must_ pick the Queen!" I said immediately.

"Why, little Bear?" he asked me.

"Because I don't think the _real_ Queen would like it if someone else were called that. I wouldn't." I said.

Jorah chuckled and rubbed a hand through my hair now, and I slapped at his hand, before curtseying and returning to my seat. I had just folded my hands into my lap when I turned to see the Queen at my side.

"Your brother will be tilting against mine, little dove. Shall we watch together?" she asked me, offering me a hand. I nodded, a huge smile on my face, as I accepted the Queen's offer. She seated me beside her, on Joffrey's seat – the Prince having been taken away for a nap.

Ser Jaime Lannister looked _regal_ on a horse. He was young, and fit on a horse, and he was deadly, or so I had heard. I worried my fingers in my lap as I watched, praying to the Old Gods that Jorah would be alright. I didn't care if he won anymore, I just wanted him to be alright. The Queen watched quietly, as the riders took their positions. Before the start though, Jaime Lannister approached the Queen and asked for her favour, and the Queen tied a red ribbon around his lance. I watched as Jorah approached the crowd the other side of us, as though entranced, and returned to the lists with a pretty purple ribbon atop his lance.

They tilted and they tied.

They tilted and they tied.

They tilted, and Jorah – my Ser Jorah Mormont, my brother and father figure and idol, unseated Jaime Lannister! I clapped and cheered for him, standing at the rail, whooping in an unladylike manner, when he shocked me. He crowned a blonde lady in the crowd his Queen of Love and Beauty! He was supposed to crown Queen Cersei! Who was that woman? Was that her favour he wore? I slowly climbed down and sat in his tent, awaiting what I thought would be his immediate return.

He came back an hour later. Grinning from ear to ear. "Wasn't she beautiful Ellie?!" he exclaimed goofily. I had never seen him like this before. An uneasy feeling settled into my belly and I shook my head.

"I am sorry Jor, I did not see her." I replied politely. If he noticed my careful answer, he didn't show it. We stayed another week at Lannisport, before we left, and _finally_ Jorah explained his mood on the day of the tourney.

"I spoke to her father. Lynesse and I are to be wed." he said jovially.

"Lynesse?" I asked him, disbelief pouring from every syllable.

"Aye, Lynesse Hightower, daughter of Leyton Hightower, Lord of Oldtown." He explained. I grumbled for the rest of the journey home. it would take over a fortnight to go by horse, so we got a boat. It was only a six day ride, and as habitants of an island, we were both completely at ease on a boat.

"But what about Elenya…?" I asked softly.

"Elenya is gone. She would want me to be happy. And you need a woman who isn't aunt Maege. She is too much like her own weapons. The old battleaxe." He grumbled the last part which made me giggle. "Lynesse is a lady, and she can show you how to be a lady. Ellie, I want the best for you, and I will do everything I can to look after you." He said.

I gazed at my brother then. He was my whole world, and I had no doubt that he would make a fine Lord of Bear Island when Father no longer could. We reached the island and I went back to my studies and sewing, and archery, while Jorah and father argued about the match he had made without alerting father.

A month later, and a large boat docked at the end of our island. A party of sixty disembarked with flowers and crates of clothing and food. It was Lynesse Hightowers' wedding party. Today was the day and my brother would be wed again. The ceremony blurred past, and soon it was time for the feast. I had my hair done in the southern style, and a floaty pink dress. It was freezing, but Lynesse had insisted all ladies be dressed in style.

I wish she would have seen Aunt Maege. Or my cousins. I couldn't look at them – or Jorah for that matter, because he was certainly as bad as me – without laughing into a goblet of water. Two hours into the feast, I was falling asleep into my lemon cakes and so Jorah hoisted me over a shoulder and carried me to my chamber.

"Goodnight, little Bear." He smiled and kissed my forehead, before leaving my room.

I loved my brother dearly, but as I slipped into the warm embrace of a dreamless sleep, I couldn't help but worry over the uneasy feeling settling into my bones, that this was a bad idea, a marriage on a whim, and all that could follow.


	2. And yet, Here I Stand

**A/N: Well, here is chapter two! **

**Thank you to Carnacki23, Turquoise Waffles, Uiriamu58, jafcbutterfly, Fenrir44 and whateveritis12 for following!**

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**Enjoy!**

**xYruniwyliox**

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**Chapter two : And yet, Here I Stand.**

It's been six, almost seven years since that wedding feast. Lynesse clearly wasn't cut out for life on an island in a land that was almost perpetually in winter. She hated the fact that after singing lessons, Jor took me out hunting to practice my archery. She hated that after I had needlepoint, I had tactical and strategic reading with Maester Blondwin, and I vastly disliked anyone mussing my hair.

I had grown – to a the age where marriage would be next for me, but then something awful happened. Well, _technically_, a lot of awful things happened. We had a raven. I was in Master Blondwin's solar, and he asked me to read it for him. He said it must have come from Winterfell, and he and Maester Luwin were agreeable counterparts. I opened the parchment, and was flying through the solar door before the parchment hit the ground.

I stomped to Jorah's study and threw the door open. "What have you done?!" I bellowed at him. Jorah blinked owlishly at me, obviously unawares at the reasons of my ire. I then realised that Father was there. Father scowled at me, disapprovingly.

"Jeorelle, we do not stomp, and ladies _certainly_ do not demand answers such as this!" he commanded. Immediately I nodded, bringing my hands together in front of my waist and bowing my head apologetically. "Well?" he barked out. He was every inch the Old Bear now. Old Bears are known for their ferocity. They are more territorial and more aggressive as they age. I stared at Jorah and father wide-eyed, now realising what I had done.

"Ellie! Ellie! We must discuss the raven about your brother! Do not go shouting Child!" Maester Blondwin's loud voice carried to us all in the room, and the atmosphere froze. I stared at Jorah, begging him to understand as father cleared his throat and gripped my upper arms.

"Tell me, Child. Now." He commanded.

"We have had a Raven from Lord Stark, Father." I stated, my voice and body now numb. "Lord Stark has sentenced Jorah to death for s-s-slave trading. He is to report to Winterfell within the fortnight." I said. My voice shook over the last sentence. My beloved brother had been trading humans for money. It sickened me to my stomach. He had lost weight recently. He was gaunt. Dishevelled. Haunted.

"Well? What does your Lady Wife think of your new pastime?" father barked out, humourlessly. Jorah paled and placed his head on the desk. "She has left me. She is now living in Lys." He sighed and bit his lip, his hand scratching the whiskers growing on his cheek.

"I have been maintaining her lifestyle and adding to ours with the money." He stated. Father's grip on my arms tightened, so much that I winced. "You are a disgrace." He breathed. I stared up at father, my eyes showing the shock and disbelief etched on my face. "You are no longer fit for this House. Get out. Creature. And go to Stark! You are NOT my SON!" he shouted. I flinched and slid to the floor, tears falling freely from my face as Jorah fled the room._ What have I done?_

I looked up at my father and he sighed and sat at the desk. "It seems things are worse than I first thought." He said. I backed from the room before he could dismiss me and fled. I ran to Jorah's chambers, but he wasn't there, so I ran to the armoury, and all I saw was Aunt Maege berating Dacey for not holding her training sword correctly _again_, and so I prayed to the Old Gods that he would be in the stables.

He stood, his breath coming out in short pants, as his shoulders rose and fell rapidly, his back to the door. I realised then that this was all my fault. His disowning. His fight with father, all because I opened my big fat mouth. I held in a choked sob, but he must have heard me, as he turned. His glassy, beautiful blue eyes locked onto my rapidly filling brown ones, and he was there, immediately.

He took me in his arms and clutched me close, soothing my sobs, and loving me, even for being the monster that I am. "Don't worry, Little Bear. I will be alright." He said. I shook my head against his shoulder. "You are going to Lord Stark aren't you?" I asked him. He nodded once and I felt my blood freeze. "I know that is what you intend, but please, Jor. Do not. I will not stand by as you go to your death. I will not lose you." He hugged me closer, rubbing circles on my back, attempting to calm both me and himself.

"I am sorry Jor. It is all my fault. Please forgive me. I just got so upset by the raven that I had to see you. Do not go to Winterfell!" I pleaded. The tear tracks soiled my pale face, and I am sure my dress must have been shocking. Jorah merely held me. Like a big brother would. Like a father.

"Would you think less of me if I fled the country?" he asked me, his eyes holding my gaze. I met his stare head on and held my shoulders straight. I would _not_ lie to him. "No. in fact, I urge you to." I answered. He sighed again. "You would brand me a coward then?" he asked me. I could see this was hurting him. He was a solemn sworn knight. And now he was a disgrace. A coward.

"Run, Jor. You are worth more to me alive than dead. Go and see Lynesse. She might be able to offer you a place to stay. Resume your life in Lys." I urged, putting my hands on his shoulders. "You are wise for a girl of six and ten, Little Bear." He said, smiling wanly. "Look after yourself. Keep learning." He lectured me sternly, and I smiled.

"Jorah?" I asked timidly. I wondered whether I resembled my ten year old self. He looked me up and down as though to remind himself that I, in fact, wasn't ten years old anymore. "Don't forget me, alright?" I begged. He hugged me again, so tightly that he squashed the air from my body.

"I love you Ellie. You made this hell worth living in." he said softly in my ear, and then he was gone. He mounted his horse and he was gone. I sat on the floor of the stables a sobbed for a good two hours, before aunt Maege came and fetched me. I was brought before my father in the Hall. "So he has fled like a coward then?" he sneered. I stared at him defiantly.

"He is not a coward. He has tried to do what is best for Bear Island. It might not have been what was actually best, but he has tried." I said. Father tilted his head as though seeing me for the first time. "You would do well to be obedient, little bear. I will not tolerate this attitude of yours." He waved a hand, and Dacey took my hand, leading me from the hall.

"You mustn't upset Uncle. He is planning on going to look for your brother and take him to Winterfell for this treason." She stated. I shook my head and fought her all the way back to my chambers, but still, I was secured in my rooms, totally alone.

I awoke the next morning to Jorelle sitting at the foot of my bed. "Something has happened." She stated drily. I sat bolt upright and dragged her back onto the furs. "Tell me." I demanded. She nodded, and swept her mass of shaggy brown curls from her face. "Your father went after Jorah late last night. He killed someone who refused to tell him where Jorah got a ship to. He was arrested and brought to Winterfell, where Lord Stark has offered him death or the Wall."

My mouth hung open and I shook my head. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to enjoy winding my brother up about his snobbish wife, and ride horses and sail boats, and shoot birds with my brother. He was supposed to tease me mercilessly about boys, and _he_ not father, was meant to choose an appropriate match for me.

I was supposed to be annoying to my father, and he was supposed to teach me good from bad. Not ignore me. Not resent me. Not distance himself from me. Though, the thought of him on the Wall almost made no impact to my life now. Whether he was here on Bear Island, or at the Wall – he would still be as distant as ever. I shook my head and stood from my furs, changing behind my privacy screen into a plain green dress.

"Well, look at you, the new Heir to Bear island. You _have_ come into your inheritance early, lass!" Jorelle smiled. She was the only one who did not covet the holding. She was the only genuine friend I had. "Ma will be your regent, so to speak. An Acting Lady of Bear Island while you come into your title. Like an advisor." She explained, touching my shoulder gently. I shook my head.

"I wish for Aunt Maege to be an advisor, not an acting Lady. There is no time like the present to become what is needed." I said. My voice was like steel. Snow. Cold. Unforgiving. I walked to the Hearth Hall and seated myself in the Lord's chair as breakfast was brought. As soon as both Jorelle and I were seated, the other women of my family entered, and we stood.

"Come now, ladies," Aunt Maege said softly, her voice completely unmatching to her countenance. Her brown hair, streaked with grey was pulled into an unforgiving bun, causing her features to look severe. Her wrinkled brow furrowed as she regarded my seating place. "Well, we do not normally stand on ceremony here, Little Bear, but how fitting it is to see you there." She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you Aunt." I said. Dacey and Lyra snickered spitefully. "I don't think she's ready," Lyra said a little too loudly. I sneered at her, my face showing my complete distaste for the whole debacle as I straightened my posture and stood tall. I was a Mormont of Bear Island. I opened my mouth easily causing her to shrink back as I proclaimed each word with finality; "And yet, Here. I. Stand."


	3. Winterfell

**A/N: Howdy-doody! **

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**Here is chapter three! I hope you enjoy!**

**xYruniwyliox**

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**Chapter Three: Winterfell**

I had been running Bear Island rather smoothly for about a month now. I had chosen two advisors. Aunt Maege for the keep and raiders, and Maester Blondwin for court and bookkeeping. Aunt Maege seemed pleased with my choices, and while Dacey and Lyra began messing around, Jorelle kept me sane. I decided to keep her as close to me as possible, as a confidante, but without spilling _all_ of my fears and secrets.

The Maester read all the notes from the Ravens and counselled me on my decisions. I was getting better at knowing what to do. One afternoon nearing the second month, I was brought a man in chains.

"My Lady, this man was caught stealing bread. The Punishment for this is death." The gaoler said, flinging the man to my feet. "Please, my lady! My daughters are starving!"

I stood and walked from the room, and he was brought behind me. "The punishment is death. But I will offer you a choice." I said, steeling myself. "Your life or your hand." The man stared at me with his eyes watering.

"My hand." He said, almost immediately. I nodded and called for a block to be brought. I also beckoned the Maester to me. "Get hot wine ready to stop the blood flow, and call for his daughters." I said, pulling Longclaw from its scabbard. I hated the blade. It was horribly heavy, and it reminded me of all the bad I had done. I had singlehandedly removed the only male heirs of my house from the island. I intended to ride to the wall to deliver the bastard blade to my father.

I stood stoic, following the Stark's example; whomsoever passes the sentence should swing the sword. I looked at this poor man, who nodded at me. He knew I had to do this. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, and Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I, Jeorelle, Lady of House Mormont and Heiress to Bear Island, charge you with theft and sentence you to lose your hand. You will serve out the rest of your days on the Wall, and will leave at Sundown."

I stood rigidly straight, shoulders back as I took a breath. I nodded as the Maester returned with his supplies and swung Longclaw. My strike was strong and true, and the man's left hand came clean from his arm. His shrieks could not be blocked out as I handed Longclaw to the Master at Arms, Ser Hendrik, to clean and return to its place in Jorah's chambers. I turned, my grey skirts swirling about my ankles as I moved to the doors of the Homely Hearth.

"You did well, child." Aunt Maege smiled kindly at me. "I would have done the act, if you'd have wanted. You should not have to see such things." I shook my head and seated myself back amongst the furs on the Lord's chair. "It is a stringent rule of the Starks that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword. It instils a sense of understanding and respect for the heinous acts that must be committed in order to uphold the law, Aunt. But I thank you for thinking of me." I nodded respectfully to her.

"What will you do with the daughters?" she asked me. I allowed my lips to turn upwards. "I will employ them here. I believe they are both three and ten. I will have them be maids. They will have a wage, and can stay here with us, protected, and be fed well. I will then proceed to send their father updates on their well-being."

She nodded again, satisfied as the girls were brought before me. Lyla and Cameryn Croft were tall and thin, the bones at their shoulders and ribs jutting out harshly against their pale skin. Lyla had a smattering of freckles, and both had jet black hair. Cameryn seemed defiant. I stood and opened my arms, as a serving girl brought out two plates. I left the dais and walked to them. Lyla dipped into a clumsy curtsey, while Cameryn stared daggers at me.

"I am very sorry about what has happened to your father." I began, nodding to the both of them. "However, the law would call for his hand or his head. He made the choice. In lieu of the admission of his guilt, he can live the rest of his life at the Wall, while you both come to work here. You will be given food and lodgings and a modest wage, and I will teach you both to read and write." I said, assessing their reactions. Lyla was crying, nodding and sniffling, while Cameryn seemed shocked.

"Y-you would do this? For us?" she asked. I nodded, allowing a small smile to form. "I will send a raven to your father, updating him on your lives here, and when you can both read and write sufficiently, I will allow you both to write to him."

"Thank you, my Lady." They both chorused and dipped into low curtseys again. I motioned to the food and they both sat and ate hungrily. It was a week or so, I believe, after that, that I was invited to Winterfell, to meet my Liege Lord.

"Do you think he is unhappy with the way I have been handling myself?" I asked Maester Blondwin, in one of the rare instances I allowed my insecurities to shine through. "No, child. He is probably curious. You are so young, and a woman to boot. He probably wants to see how you are faring. Maybe even offer advice? You would do well to heed his invitation and follow his counsel!" the Maester guided me. I smiled in thanks and turned to go.

"You had best limber up, it is a weeks' ride to Winterfell, Maester, and I do believe it is time you reacquaint yourself with an old friend." I smiled at him, before moving to the door, his retort of "You are far too sharp for your own good!" following me down the corridor. I approached my room and asked the two girls to accompany me.

My retinue and I made haste to leave. It was a three hour boat ride and a nine day ride to Winterfell. I left Aunt Maege in charge while I was away, and off we rode. It was Lyla and Cameryn with me, Cameryn riding a bay mare, with Lyla riding a Stallion beside me. My dappled grey Mare, Stormcloud, was beautifully tempered, with a soft and quiet disposition, but no fiercer hunting horse could be found. Maester Blondwin rode near the nearly empty cart that we had opted to bring with us. Most nobles travelling to the keep of their Liege Lord would offer a rich gift, in honour of the invite. We were planning on hunting several times on the trip. All of our catch, bar the rabbits and birds would go to Winterfell. I decided it would be a nice offer, because feeding another fifteen was so costly. So they would get the animals, for the kitchens and would keep the pelts for whatever they wanted. By the time the walls of Winterfell were visible, our cart was sagging under the weight of the load, and the girls and I were a good half an hour away from the retinue. We approached the gates, as the guards called us to halt.

"State your name and business, my Lady." He called.

"I am Lady Jeorelle of Bear island. I have come by invitation of Lord Stark. The party half an hour behind me is my retinue. They are weighed down by our offering." I smiled at him and lowered my hood. He nodded and motioned the gates to open. Cameryn eyed the courtyard as Lyla motioned me to pull up my hood again. It would not do to meet someone unkind before we got to the Hall of Lord Stark, to take the guest rites of salt and bread and water.

I noticed a group of young men bantering at an archery range. It was next to the stable, so I began moving Stormcloud towards the stables when one of the men's voices carried to us.

"I've heard all the women of Bear island are vile to look at. Maybe you could mount this lady from behind, Robb?" I narrowed my eyes at the brown haired brute. He was tall and well built. Built like an archer, but arrogant. The other two with him were sighing, as though exasperated. One with black hair locked eyes with me and I smirked and motioned his silence. A faint nod gave me confirmation of his compliance as I turned my face, as though unable to hear and they carried on.

"I've heard the Ladies of Bear island are good with weapons. You surely cannot fault them for that, Theon?" The dark haired one replied. The one with auburn hair made to answer before the arrogant one snorted loudly. "They probably fool around with weapons because the _Bears_ of Bear Island will never wed as they are so ugly." He sneered, raising his bow and firing an arrow to the centre circle of the target. I scowled, standing in my saddle and turning Stormcloud to face the courtyard. I drew my bow and freed my quiver from my cloak, before knocking and releasing an arrow, which shredded through his own, burying itself in the target. I nudged Stormcloud forward and she cantered without me touching her reins, as I fired another six arrows consecutively from a moving beast. As I called Storm to heel, she stopped and I vaulted from her saddle to come face to face with these men.

"Who in the name of the Gods are _you_?" the cocky one demanded. I swept my hood from my face and dipped into a low curtsey, "Lady Mormont of _Bear island,_" I grit out, and he had the decency to look guilty.

"Forgive me my bad behaviour, however, we _Bears_ are too uncivilised to know good manners. Especially in the company of the slimy creatures of the deep." I sneered, referring to the Sigil of House Greyjoy, turning to the target and retrieving my arrows, placing them in my quiver and shouldering my bow, before handing him his shredded arrow.

"Could either of you _fine_ young gentlemen direct me to Lord Stark?" I asked icily. The auburn haired one nodded and offered me an arm. I took it as a stable hand rushed to Storm and began heading her to the stables. "You must forgive Theon," the auburn haired young man said softly. He shook his head. "He often speaks without thinking."

I snorted and shook my head. "I would have thought being a ward of Winterfell would have instilled _some_ honour in a Greyjoy." I replied. "Who must I thank for the lucky distraction and tour?" I asked, turning to him. His eyes almost glowed icily in the dark. His colouring was not of the north and I fought a frown. He was beautiful, but did not look Northern.

"I am Robb Stark." He said, bowing. I smiled and dipped into a curtsey, my brown hair swishing side to side, some strands freeing themselves from its braid. "Lord Robb, it is an honour. I wished you would have introduced yourself sooner, perhaps I could have shown a more ladylike disposition," I grinned cheekily, which he returned, a bold laugh bursting forth. "Forgive me, my Lady, but I fear I prefer you like this." He smiled, his cheeks colouring a little, under the scruff of his auburn beard. I nodded. We were soon stood before the double doors to the Hall of Winterfell. Robb bowed again and smiled. "Good Luck." He wished me, and I curtseyed, nodding to him. "I shall see you soon, Lord Robb." I smiled. He nodded again and slipped outside. I turned and pushed the doors open. I walked to the front of the hall, where Lord Stark and his wife sat, I stood straight, my skirts swirling around my ankles as my boots made clacking sounds on the stone floor, I counted twenty-six steps before I had made it before the high table, and I swept into a low curtsey, my knees already protesting at the amount of times I had to do this today. My lips twitched upwards at the thought as I took in the sight before me.

"Good morning, Lord Stark," I smiled standing back to my full height. I was tall for my age. I was grateful. I had a stance like Jorah, and did not follow the build of the conventional women of Bear island. My brown eyes were alert, my hair a mess, showing I had been long at travel, and my chest rose and fell rapidly. This was what I was waiting for. To be accepted as the rightful heir to Bear island. Otherwise, he would install a new Lord.

"Good morning, Lady Mormont." He replied. I looked at him, shocked that he knew who I was. "No need to worry, girl." He said standing and moving from the high table. "My wife and I had the pleasure of observing your archery demonstration in the courtyard." His lips twitched upwards good-naturedly and I flushed crimson.

"I hope I did not bring dishonour, My Lord," I said, turning my face to the floor. He laughed. I liked Lord Stark, he was obviously the epitome of fatherly and honourable. "You have certainly left an impression on my Ward." He mused. I nodded, the colour of my face, hopefully, returning to normal. I heard the horn of Bear island shortly after, and smiled widely.


End file.
